


Never Ending

by Capriciously_Terminal



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Because they've gotta be sad in every lifetime, But most of the time?, I mean sure it'll be happy sometimes, M/M, Reincarnation AU, Sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capriciously_Terminal/pseuds/Capriciously_Terminal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a cycle really, their story. Again and again they're reborn, and while they don't always find each other they're always searching. They don't know for what, the same way they don't know about their past, but they walk countless lifetimes and somehow keep missing each other. And when they do find each other again, they face an inescapable ending. (Sorta connected snippets of Eric and Alan's lives and the cycle they round.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Missing

The first time Eric found himself walking among the living again he missed Alan completely. The few second head start he'd been given had sent him leagues ahead of Eric in time, meaning that when Eric finally started walking and talking Alan was long gone. So he'd spent his life they way he'd spent most of his eternity, drinking and laughing with friends and women alike with this sort of hole in his heart that clenched like a fist when he was completely alone. It was a feeling that always drove him to look over his shoulder as he walked through a crowd. His green eyes (because now they’ll always be green, green as sin) always moving from each individual face, always scanning for that one person he couldn't quite remember but knew he'd recognize once he saw them.

That feeling drove him to do some pretty strange things too. He'd stop at the optometrist and pick up wire frames that were too small for his face and hold them in his hands with some mixture of guilt and longing bubbling through his chest. Cradle them, more like it, and Eric Slingby was never one for such artsy verbs (or at least out loud unless it was to make a point or impress someone.) He wasn’t a cradler, but something kept his hands soft and his grip shaky when this sort of feeling overtook him. He'd taken an office job briefly, the familiar clacking of fingers on keyboards almost soothing to him. But whenever he stepped out with his work friends to go for lunch he always looked around on instinct for someone who wasn't there.

The flowers were the worst though. He always seemed so close to remembering around flowers. He could almost imagine that the ghosting of petals in his hands were something else. He almost saw whatever he was looking for peeking out from flower displays in the grocery store. It was like tuning in to a radio station, something got a little clearer, but all he could make out was static and white noise. At one point he'd seen an old woman on the street selling bouquets of flowers, and he'd just bought one out of the blue. The flowers were purple and small, but there were enough of them that it was a decent sized bouquet. He had no reason to want it, he'd mused, as he pulled out his wallet. He flashed a girl across the sidewalk a charming grin while tossing his hair just the right way as he paid. She'd giggled, and he'd felt somewhat empty inside.

"If you're buying for a lady friend," The flower woman had grinned feebly while wrapping the green stems of his bouquet in brown paper. "I'd recommend these." She nodded her head at a bouquet of red chrysanthemums with some baby's breath placed sporadically among the other flowers that sat wrapped in red paper. "While lovely, heather never has much of a romantic meaning.”

"Heather?" He questioned absent-mindedly, taking the bouquet from her. Her words seemed almost familiar. The white noise around him was swelling. He thought he could almost make something out, he was almost on to something. "I thought these were called something else." His mouth was moving but he didn't quite realize he was speaking.

"Oh?" Her brow furrowed slightly, before releasing as she remembered what he meant. "I suppose you're right.”

Eric somehow already knew what she was going to say.

"They're also called Ericas.”

The white noise reached a crescendo. Her words made something shatter, something Eric couldn't understand. And he could only mutter dumbly under his breath, “Solitude."

Her eyes crinkled warmly. "That's right!” As if moving on strings, Eric dropped a few extra dollars into the glass mason jar she used for tips as she continued speaking. ”Not many people know about flower meanings anymore, it's such a romantic little thing. Are you sure you don't want the chrysanthemums? They're half price!"

He hadn't realized that she'd spoken, lost in thought, until she went to grab the red bouquet. His head shot up, and he felt like someone who had just cleared water from their ears as the white noise vanished, leaving only the sound of the crowded sidewalk behind him, the sound of life. He raised the purple bouquet. "Just these, thanks." He flashed her a smile, different than the one he'd shown the girl across the sidewalk (who was waiting outside of a coffee shop a few shops down with her eyes trained on him.)

On a normal day he'd have walked over to her, and they'd have gotten coffee (among other things.) But right now he felt broken and uninterested, so he'd turned and walked back to his apartment with something unpleasant buzzing inside him. The white noise retuned and was heavy as cotton, hanging thick about his ears leaving him confused and too sad.

An old tenant had left a thin crystal vase in a cabinet that only required a small bit of rooting to find and a slight rubbing with a cloth to remove the dust. He found shears in the same cabinet, and as he wetted the stems and snipped at the bottoms, he almost swore that the motion felt familiar. Like ghosts were driving his hands, he moved as if he'd been tending flowers his entire life.

By the end of the afternoon the flowers stood proudly in the windowsill drinking in the slowly setting sun, but Eric felt more like something was dying. As the weeks progressed, the flowers continued to stand vigilantly in the window, but they eventually wilted as all things did. When all of the petals were brown and some had fallen dejectedly to the chipped white paint, he threw the brittle stems away, and felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

As he'd stepped outside afterwards, _claustrophobic can't stay here can’t_ , Eric had never felt so alone.


	2. Against the Cold, Inside a Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric finally catches up to Alan, but the universe seems to have a ridiculous sense of humor.

The second time, Eric finally caught up to Alan, but the universe had a ridiculous sense of humor. This time, Eric had an engagement ring in his pocket and a hopeful finance-to-be waiting at a restaurant as he runs to a small flower shop for an impromptu bouquet.

The wind swarmed outside with an icy bite, cutting through the suit Eric dug up to wear despite his thick coat, but the flower shop was a pocket of warmth and light as Eric pulled up. He hurried through the frosty air, minute flakes of snow beginning to pirouette down from the sky and join the mounds already present on the ground. The bell above the door chimed as he pushed it open, a gust of cold hurrying in after him.

"Be with you in a minute!!" A male voice called from the back of the shop behind a curtain.

Eric hummed nonchalantly as he tugged off his black gloves, looking over the sample flowers that sat primly on shelves and burst from displays in the center of the shop. He only came to the thought that they all looked nice enough to hide a ring in, but none of them were exactly what he was looking for, and he didn’t have all day to make a decision.

"Sorry," the voice sounded from the back accompanied by almost hurried footsteps. "I've been swamped with orders today, it seems an entire high school has decided to order their corsages at the exact same time. Now, what can I help you with?" A slight man shouldered past the black curtain to stand behind the counter, and Eric's heart stopped.

In a brief moment of clarity, Eric realizes that he has never seen this man in his life. He doubted even passing the other on the street. But he still takes a moment that almost feels like a lifetime to simply drink in the look of him. As one would with a friend ( _friend, really?_ ) that they hadn't seen in a long time.

He could almost be a woman, with his slim face and slight build, but Eric knew that this man would hate his womanly features and bristle if you mentioned them. ( _Somehow, how did he know that?_ ) His short brown hair was not as neat, Eric mused, as it could be. There were stray petals in it, while dirt and green stains decorated his hands. Even his hands were small, and despite Eric's confusion he found that he burned with the impulse to grab at least one of them and never let go. His green eyes stood out against his pale skin behind thin oval-framed glasses, and they were locked with Eric's good-naturedly.

"Ah..." Eric, to his credit, had never struggled to make conversation this much before. He was suddenly struck by how long he’d been staring without saying a word, and how much more awkward it would become should he continue to stand and gape. "I need some flowers."

There was a brief pause, as if the man was waiting on Eric to elaborate. He didn't. "...Well I believe that you've come to the right place, Sir." The man smiled politely, gesturing to the masses of flowers around him. "We certainly have no shortage of those. What kind were you looking for?"

"Eh," Eric turned again, raising a hand to scratch at his braids as he tried to pick out a specific kind of flower from the massive selection. "Not really sure, somethin' romantic." He turned back to the man, flashing a slight grin "This ain't exactly my forte."

The man chuckled slightly ( _a sound so familiar, why did it make Eric feel like he'd just been slapped? Guilt was flowing down his spine like an electrical current, why did it hurt so much?_ ) "Well, I'm happy to help Mr...?" He trailed off, allowing Eric to supply his name.

"Slingby," the word came out too quickly for Eric's liking. What was wrong with him today? "Eric Slingby." He held out a hand as suavely as he could manage.

The man's smile didn't waver as he brushed his hand against his pants before taking Eric's hand and giving it a polite shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Slingby. I'm Alan Humphries, and lucky for you, flowers are my specialty."

Eric beat down the urge to never let go of Alan's hand, he beat it down hard as Alan pulled away and came around the counter.

"When it comes to romance," he gestured over his shoulder for Eric to follow him through the flowers. "You can't go wrong with red." He stopped in front of a shelf overflowing with red flowers of varying size and shape and placed his hands behind his back.

"I have a co-worker who'd agree whole-heartedly." Eric chuckled, recalling the daily rants he would receive regarding the color red and all of its perfect uses. Alan returned a smile that seemed to light up his face before turning back to his wares, but the smile remained and made Eric feel a rather confusing blend of both sadness and pure elation.  

Eric walked away that evening with a bouquet of red roses, and a promise to come back for something more special when he had more time. It wasn’t just the flowers that would call him back, it was the look in Alan Humphries’ eyes as Eric paid. A look that said _maybe I have known you before_ , one that made something light up in Eric’s chest and made his step a little lighter.

He'd tried to keep that promise, but life happened, and by the time he'd needed more flowers, the shop was closed with a For Sale sign in the window. When he peered through the window all of the shelves and displays had been cleared of pots and arrangements.

 He asked the owner of the bakery next door if he knew anything.

"It was open just a few weeks ago." Eric had mentioned, taking his bagel from the man behind the counter. "Any idea what happened?"

"You didn't hear? The owner was sick or somethin', he passed away just last week. Real sudden thing, apparently.”

The snow continued to fall outside as Eric payed for his bagel and left. He wound up throwing it away before he got into his car. But he couldn’t bring himself to start up the engine. He didn’t want to go back to his apartment or answer his fiancee’s questions about where he’d been. Instead he sat in the chilly car, the temperature continuing to drop, and look out the window at the bustle of life outside. No one met his eyes, going about their business. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d missed out on something, as the light he’d been holding near his heart dimmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still sad, as are most of these AU's. We'll try for something happy soon. Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> We'll see how this goes. Thoughts?


End file.
